TO THE BLACK WOMAN I ONCE LOVED- Mercy Harold

Olivia,
I wish I told you before our feelings became familiar friends that my sexuality bagged a problem,

That I couldn’t be the man deep into romantic interactions because my masculinity was kidnapped in the chattering footsteps of that “assault”.

The hunting melody rose at the wake of my adolescence, when a known stranger forcelly strolled into my innocence, violating my masculinity and breaking my aura before my eyes

For twelve years the panic in my eyes coloured, I wept under the conscious silence; I couldn’t tell anyone, what couldn’t I possibly say, that “MY ASSAILANT WAS A MAN”as a man the world rotates differently, I have been “closeted in the den of luther ”

For twelve years I lived in a wrecked cell visited only by one person, in the betraying increase of this violation and I couldn’t speak to anyone..I couldn’t fight, my problem was internalised.

Something happened the day I saw you enchanting with your feline friends, a flicker of intrest blossomed, I am ready to scratch the surface of the things that happened, ready to open the Windows of my broken heart to let out yesterday’s headache.